"we are eagles of one nest," Sam/Dean, PG
I completely forgot to repost this fic because it's really old. (I'm going to go back through my old journal and look for anything else I forgot to post here, so sorry in advance if I spam you.)
Title: we are eagles of one nest
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess.
Rating: PG
Notes: Set during the pilot. No spoilers.
That first day they set out after Dad, Sam’s balancing his textbook on his knees and trying to read as the Impala bumps down the rough Jericho roads. The words he’s reading don’t focus, won’t form into sentences in his head, but he keeps the book open as a reminder of how different everything is now. How after this is over, Sam will be getting ready for his interview, dressed in a suit and tie, Jess squeezing his hand reassuringly-and Dean and Dad will be grime-covered, sleep-deprived, packing weapons into the back of the Impala and following a blood trail.
“Law school,” Dean scoffs. “Seriously, man? Dad needs our help-hell, maybe Dad’s got the thing that killed mom-and you’re studying for the freaking LSATs?”
Peering down at the tiny print and trying to keep his gaze steady, Sam says, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m going to become a lawyer, Dean. This is what I’ll need to know, not-not how to forge a credit card or break into an apartment!”
Stored back in Sam’s memory, along with his times tables and the dates of the battles of all the major wars, is how to kill a zombie, how to exorcise a demon, how to load rock salt into a gun with his eyes closed. Sam, no matter what he tells himself, he’s never going to forget.
No matter how happy he is with Jess, no matter how pretty she’ll look swathed in white with her veil trailing behind her, he’s never going to forget Dean.
-
He doesn’t love Jess. Jess grew up in a two story house in Palo Alto instead of in the back seat of a car, grew up hogging a remote from her older brother instead of a pistol. Jess covers her eyes during horror movies and whispers, “tell me when it’s over,” huddling into Sam; Sam learned to step over mauled corpses without flinching almost as soon as he learned to read. He doesn’t love Jess, but right now, she’s the closest thing to normal he has.
Jess leaves him a breathy phone message about how much she misses him, naively asking how his dad’s doing, how he likes being with his family again. Jess, she’ll never be like him, and it’s a relief to dial Dean’s number.
Dean picks up, and Sam half-unconsciously cradles the phone to his ear, holds Dean’s every breath and syllable close.
It’s only when the Impala’s locks click closed, when the woman in white materializes in the back seat, that Sam figures it out.
“I’m not unfaithful,” he insists futilely, pushing the woman away, and his gut clenches as he thinks of Jess waiting for him at home-Jess waiting, while he’s here with Dean.
“You will be,” the woman in white murmurs in response, mouth twisting into a smirk. Like she knows, and Sam’s mouth is dry. He’s imagining Dean’s lips against his, Dean pushing him against the side of the Impala, even as the woman in white’s claws rake into his chest.
They’re silent most of the way home. It’s raining steadily, and Dean’s humming along quietly to Led Zeppelin. Sam tries not to look at him, closes his eyes and tries not to think about anything at all.
“You can still come with me, if you want,” Dean suggests casually, as the Impala stalls outside Sam’s apartment complex, “Help me find Dad. Kill some evil sons of bitches along the way, like old times. What do you say?”
“I’m not going to live like that anymore,” Sam says, slamming the passenger door closed and heading up to his apartment. He doesn't look back.
Title: we are eagles of one nest
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess.
Rating: PG
Notes: Set during the pilot. No spoilers.
That first day they set out after Dad, Sam’s balancing his textbook on his knees and trying to read as the Impala bumps down the rough Jericho roads. The words he’s reading don’t focus, won’t form into sentences in his head, but he keeps the book open as a reminder of how different everything is now. How after this is over, Sam will be getting ready for his interview, dressed in a suit and tie, Jess squeezing his hand reassuringly-and Dean and Dad will be grime-covered, sleep-deprived, packing weapons into the back of the Impala and following a blood trail.
“Law school,” Dean scoffs. “Seriously, man? Dad needs our help-hell, maybe Dad’s got the thing that killed mom-and you’re studying for the freaking LSATs?”
Peering down at the tiny print and trying to keep his gaze steady, Sam says, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m going to become a lawyer, Dean. This is what I’ll need to know, not-not how to forge a credit card or break into an apartment!”
Stored back in Sam’s memory, along with his times tables and the dates of the battles of all the major wars, is how to kill a zombie, how to exorcise a demon, how to load rock salt into a gun with his eyes closed. Sam, no matter what he tells himself, he’s never going to forget.
No matter how happy he is with Jess, no matter how pretty she’ll look swathed in white with her veil trailing behind her, he’s never going to forget Dean.
-
He doesn’t love Jess. Jess grew up in a two story house in Palo Alto instead of in the back seat of a car, grew up hogging a remote from her older brother instead of a pistol. Jess covers her eyes during horror movies and whispers, “tell me when it’s over,” huddling into Sam; Sam learned to step over mauled corpses without flinching almost as soon as he learned to read. He doesn’t love Jess, but right now, she’s the closest thing to normal he has.
Jess leaves him a breathy phone message about how much she misses him, naively asking how his dad’s doing, how he likes being with his family again. Jess, she’ll never be like him, and it’s a relief to dial Dean’s number.
Dean picks up, and Sam half-unconsciously cradles the phone to his ear, holds Dean’s every breath and syllable close.
It’s only when the Impala’s locks click closed, when the woman in white materializes in the back seat, that Sam figures it out.
“I’m not unfaithful,” he insists futilely, pushing the woman away, and his gut clenches as he thinks of Jess waiting for him at home-Jess waiting, while he’s here with Dean.
“You will be,” the woman in white murmurs in response, mouth twisting into a smirk. Like she knows, and Sam’s mouth is dry. He’s imagining Dean’s lips against his, Dean pushing him against the side of the Impala, even as the woman in white’s claws rake into his chest.
They’re silent most of the way home. It’s raining steadily, and Dean’s humming along quietly to Led Zeppelin. Sam tries not to look at him, closes his eyes and tries not to think about anything at all.
“You can still come with me, if you want,” Dean suggests casually, as the Impala stalls outside Sam’s apartment complex, “Help me find Dad. Kill some evil sons of bitches along the way, like old times. What do you say?”
“I’m not going to live like that anymore,” Sam says, slamming the passenger door closed and heading up to his apartment. He doesn't look back.